Last One Out
by DeltaG
Summary: David Mason is in a crisis. He and Harper are charged with protection of the P.O.T.U.S. in Los Angeles, but complications arise. The city is in flames, support is little to none, the world around them is crumbling at they struggle to get out of the city. Alex Mason worries about the rising man by the name of Raul Menendez, and his son, David, who recently joined the SEALs.
1. LA

**A/N: Sorry for those who expected another historical fic, I've decided to work on this fic: A Black Ops 2 speculative fic open to ideas. R&R.**

_October 21st, 2012_

_2300/11:00 PM_

_Undisclosed Location_

_United States of America_

_Retired Marine Corps._

_Capt. Alex Mason_

_/ Encrypted file transfer.../_

_/Decrypted files.../_

_/Enter Username: masonda/_

_/Enter Password: *******/_

_/Entrance granted, welcome masonda.../_

_Alex Mason rubbed his forehead, staring at the screen in front of him. It was 2012, and he was feeling old. He was past his prime, and he was wondering when the world would get back to normal, when he could see his son again._

_On the screen, a message appeared after several seconds of the welcome message displayed._

_To: ********************_

_Subject: Pendant_

_Message: The pendant is gone. I have no idea who the fuck you think you are taking the pendant, but mark my words Menendez, you will suffer. Your rise to power was swift and wordless to the councils, but you will suffer for this. You have gone too far._

_Present day, April 1, 2025_

_1300/1:00 PM_

_Los Angeles, California_

_United States of America_

_SEAL Team Six_

_Private David A. Mason_

"Polo two-one, I need a strafing run in grid A-4! We've got unidentified ground vehicles nearing the P.O.T.U.S.!" Harper yelled into the radio next to him.

In David's hands, he held a Ballista in his hands. To the left of him, leaning against the edge of the building, the radio crackling. Harper was attempting to jam a mag into his own sniper rifle, another Ballista.

"Denied, SEAL 6-1, we have no, repeat, _NO_, support available, even for the President!" The voice yelled back over, as a large explosion shook the building, making the radio fall over and slam into Harper's knee with a loud crack. He let out a yell in pain and grabbed the radio, cursing loudly, and then placed it back o the table as they continued hearing explosions.

"We've got HINDS!" David yelled. Over to his left he could see the large helicopter making its way towards their area, the blades spinning in a loud _whump, whump, whump, _sound, making David nervous. Harper looked out to see the Hind and quickly turned back to the radio.

"Requesting AA support in grid A-4! Hinds spotted, repeat, Hinds spotted in grid A-4!" The SEAL operative yelled, looking over the edge of the building.

Down below David, the scene was destructive. Amongst the fallen buildings somewhere was the president, her secret service, and the military sent as her forward guard. He could make out a large tan form, and he recognized the _thoom, thoom, thoom, _of the CLAW's large cannon, firing off into the distance.

"Firing for effect, 6-1!" A voice yelled back over the radio. Exactly ten seconds later a whistling sound filled the SEAL team's ears as a barrage of the heat-seeking missiles thundered overhead, followed by "dumb" missiles, which would cover the area of ground forces as a bonus.

The lead Hind attempted to divert to escape, but got hit full force with the first missile, causing a domino effect when it exploded. The other missiles quickly finished off the remainders of the hinds, the rest diverting to go after jets much faster than them, eventually slamming into another object.

"MASON!" Harper exclaimed as David noticed a rumbling under him. He heard a loud crackling sound, followed by what sounded as if fire was being shot from a flamethrower, except on a much larger scale. Underneath him he could see windows suddenly burst, the glass raining down on any individuals below, and then fire spraying out of the open windows.

"Fuck!" David Mason exclaimed as the part of the building below him was struck by another missile, sending a rumbling up his level, sending him stumbling backwards when he attempted to stand. The corner of the roof began crumbling, falling down to the street below and sending up a large cloud of dust, taking out a street light as it went.

David scrambled backwards quickly, barely escaping the falling building. He reached back for Harper's hand, and it was there. Harper pulled the son of the 'Nam veteran to his feet and steadied him with a hand on his shoulder.

"You alright, Mason?" He asked.

David nodded, feeling as if he would begin to cry if he opened his mouth. He had joined the military for the "experience," not for the job of protecting the president. That was the third time in that day he'd faced death, and had survived. He felt his luck running low, and that he would sooner or later meet his demise in this city or somewhere else in the struggle for survival in the world.

"...6-1, Do you copy?" The radio crackled.

"Copy." Harper replied, crouching next to it.

"Fire for effect worked if we assume you're still alive and not fake. Can't tell one voice from another on these shit radios, but they're all we got." the voice crackled back, sounding as if it was far away now.

"We need Flock 2-1 to meet us at Exfil point Georgia. Be prepared for the P.O.T.U.S." Harper said, and then turned the radio off. There would be no need for it now, as they would be covering the P.O.T.U.S. to the exfil.

David nodded and looked across to the next building. He and Harper could easily make the jump, but first they'd need to clear the way for the P.O.T.U.S., the CLAW, the SSA men, and the military men down there.

"You ready for this, Mason?" Harper looked at him, holding up his Ballista.

"Let's go." David replied in a low voice, sprinting after Harper towards the edge of the building.

**A/N: I know, short start, but this will be much longer in all the other chapters. The story will most likely not be using "Strike-force" options, as that would mean I would have to rewrite entire chapters several times for all the endings, which would probably result in confusion and many readers to quit reading. Review if you want, and check out Justified if you're more into historic fics.**


	2. Reunion

**A/N: Thanks to SergeantJohnston for showing interest and reviewing, your reviews help my morale and encouraged me to go back to my best version of this chapter: The original that was accidentally deleted. I wrote 3 VERY different versions of this chapter that I scrapped and returned to this one, so enjoy.**

_December 31st, 1980_

_2350/11:50 PM_

_Fred's Bar, Las Vegas_

_United States of America_

_Retired Marine Corps._

_Capt. Alex Mason_

"_Remains"_

The bar was crowded. Mason breathe din the second-hand smoke reluctantly as the smokers' leftovers drifted over towards the bar where Mason was sitting, his beer mug empty next to him, an ashtray not far away being used by two drunks.

To Mason's left were the two drunks. One was obviously out of his thinking capacity, the other maintaining his sense while still managing to get intoxicated. A bartender was speaking softly to them, his left arm a stub. Mason noticed a purple piece of metal on his shirt, and wondered if it was regulation or what he'd seen so long ago.

"Sir, you're intoxicated. I need you to either calm yourself the fuck down, or leave." The bartender was visibly frustrated, and was pointing to the door with his remaining arm, the drunk continuing to down his alcohol in large gulps and sloshing it all over the table.

"Now see, I ah, I say I ah fee' fi'e." The drunk mumbled, sloshing around the mug and spilling it on his buddy who didn't notice.

"Sir, you aren't. Do I need to get the security guard are you going to go now?" The bartender was trying to keep his cool now as he reached to take the beer mug from the drunk.

"NO!" The drunk exclaimed, pulling the mug from his reach and then cracking it over the bartender's skull out of rage. The classic glass mug shattered and the bartender slumped onto the counter, and then fell behind it. Glass shards skittered across the counter and off of it, one landing next to Mason's empty mug.

"Now I don't think there was any reason for that." Mason quietly muttered. The drunk heard and turned on the stool to look at him. Mason could now see the man had a thick beard, wore a trucker hat with the words, "World's Best Trucka" on it. He was visibly intoxicated and rose, stepping in front of Mason and swinging the broken mug threateningly.

"Wh' you say?" The drunk asked, looking down menacingly at Mason.

"I said," Mason reached up and gripped the man's throat, tightening his grip quickly and shifting his pull to the right,where he slammed the man's head down onto the counter. The ashtray shook and fell off the counter, landing on the drunk's friend's lap, causing him to cry out and jump up. Mason's other hand smacked the broken mug from the man and sent it across the counter towards the other end. "there was no reason for that."

"Woah, woah, whoh, cal' down, ma'." The drunk tried to apologize now, but instead received a hard punch to the gut.

Mason felt his arms grabbed from behind him, and then the drunk fell to the floor, where his buddy tried to help him. "Sir, you're going outside. We don't tolerate unruly behavior in here." A voice said in Mason's ear as he was dragged out through the front door.

Mason smiled when he was brought out onto the busy street. He had taught a drunk a lesson, some action he had not gotten in years. Oh, he hated it, but he'd felt a need, and the drunk had satisfied it.

"Mason." A voice sounded in his ear.

"Reznov..." He recognized the voice. It had been over ten years, but Reznov's voice was still the same. Ten years or more since he had heard the friendly voice of the Russian. Mason nearly cried.

Mason turned around and hugged Reznov, who hugged back and patted his back.

"I missed you, Reznov." Mason choked out, about to cry.

"I missed you too, Mason." Reznov replied.

**A/N: I lied, sorry. :( This story is most likely going to be short chapters on Alex Mason chapters, but might be longer on the D. Mason chapters. It's kind of hard to write a storyline that hasn't come out yet, and add to the fact we haven't been given a lot of info on this yet. Anyways, hope you like dit.**


	3. Fires

**A/N: More thanks to SergeantJohnston for reviewing. I'm thinking of doing an AU where it's 2027, and it's a resistance type version of this, where David, Harper, and OC characters are resistance, kind of like a 1940's type resistance in France. If anyone cares, let me know what you think.**

_April 1, 2025_

_1321/1:21 PM_

_Los Angeles, California_

_United States of America_

_SEAL Team Six_

_Private David A. Mason_

"_P.O.T.U.S."_

Jets screamed, buildings fell, blood spilled, ears rung, weapons shot. David Mason couldn't see for the life of him, and if he could, he wouldn't want to have.

Beneath him he could feel the tiled roof, his gloved hands searching around for his Ballista or his Colt, his only hopes in the war torn city that he was now fighting to get out of.

"Mason..." Harper's voice wafted over to Mason as he continued scrambling on his stomach for his weapon. He could hear hurried footsteps and then a hand on his shoulder.

"Mason! Can you hear me?" Harper asked.

"Yea..." David muttered back, attempting to open his eyes. He could see Harper's face in front of him, and behind him was an enemy jet. The course it was heading, Mason thought the plane was going to change course at the last moment, but instead, the screaming aerial vehicle slammed into the side of the large building. The rest was a bright flash followed by an explosion, and then the sound of hundreds of glass items breaking, and then the crumbling of concrete and other building materials.

"Victor-Charlie 1-1, we've got suicide bombers!" Mason's headpiece crackled as he took Harper's hand and was pulled to his feet. To the left of him was his Ballista, and his Colt was somehow precariously dangling over the edge of the building.

"Copy Hotel 2-1, any nearby units, Victor-Charlie 1-1 requesting assistance, we've got MUJ-233s over Grid Juliet 5! Repeat, re- GAAAAAAH" Mason clutched his earpiece as the scream filled his ears, followed by a static sound that quickly turned to nothing.

"Send recovery teams to Grid Juliet 5!" Another voice yelled, and then went silent.

"You hear that too?" Harper asked as he leaned down on the edge of the building and set up the bipod on his Ballista.

"Yea, sounds like they're fucked." David responded, setting up the bipod on his Ballista as well.

The scene lit up in an X-ray fashion to David, and he could instantly detect any threats inside the burning buildings, as well as the miraculously untouched one. For now he focused on the building that was firing down upon the VIPs the two were charged with protecting. The building was a six story with both heavy and light arms fire raining down on the VIPs, which were hiding behind the CLAW.

"See the sniper, fourth floor, east side?" David asked, zooming in on the man that popped up, aimed, fired, and then dropped down again.

"I got 'im... You take the LMG on the second floor, he'd getting a bit too risky for my tastes." Harper responded.

Readjusting his position to a more favorable one, David saw the LMG man that was just firing down at the VIPs, not even stopping to take cover when he reloaded.

David pulled the trigger and the man suddenly dropped dead, his LMG falling down a story from the window where he was positioned into the rubble filled streets below.

Another shot fired, and David assumed the sniper was down as well.

"There's too many..." Harper muttered, pulling back the bolt on his Ballista.

"Got any of those experimental explosive shots?" David asked, an idea popping into his head. Next to the building he assumed was an office, there were a group of fuel tanks, along with a few slightly damaged cars that would offer more carnage and destruction.

"Careful with 'em." Harper warned, handing one of the explosive rounds to David, who loaded it into his chamber.

"Alright, wind compensation, extra bullet weight, and height..." David muttered, as he fixed his aim for the rifle to a large way above the tanks. The large height they were at would add to the effect of the wind and bullet weight, so he hoped this was right or he would miss and probably take a chunk from the street at this range.

But he didn't miss. He looked up from the scope to see the entire right side of the building gone, and the opening on fire. The fire was quickly spreading, and many inside had either been killed, injured, or were looking for a way out as the cars outside began exploding as well, eliminating the front entrance to the building, as well as a bit of the front walls.

"Shit..." Harper muttered, a grin on his face as he saw the building burning and falling apart before his eyes.

**A/N: So it wasn't that much longer, but I put in a bit more detail than I had originally, and they will get longer as I end the part where they're in LA. I prefer more remote scenes, rather than large fights like this.**


End file.
